Little Girl Lost Page 5

  “What was that about?” he sneered.

  “What was what about?” Penny shrugged, feigning a sense of naivety.

  “You know what,” Jayson hissed. “I don’t need you to help me cover the freakin’ talent show.”

  “It could be fun,” Penny said with a grin.

  Jayson huffed and stalked away to his desk, further proving to Penny he had something to hide. But, what could it be? Doubt etched itself into her mind, deep in the folds of her thoughts and the truths she’d clung to all these years. Jayson had always been a good guy, minus the affair, but he wasn’t a bad man. Had something changed?

  Penny glanced outside the window and a glossy poster with Harper’s face and home phone reflected under the October sunlight. A pang of sadness radiated within Penny’s gut, and she didn’t think twice as she strode into Peter’s office.

  “Well, if it isn’t my star reporter,” Peter said.

  “Can we talk?” Penny asked quickly.

  Peter motioned her inside, and Penny closed the door behind her. She looked at her boss and noticed his cheerful demeanor had been extinguished and a melancholic ambiance took hold. The bags under his eyes were marginally more noticeable, and his smile thinned.

  "Everything okay?” Penny asked.

  “Oh, you know. Life,” Peter replied.

  Penny followed her boss’s gaze toward a photograph on his desk. It was of a little girl with electric crimson hair and eyes as big as the moon. The girl sat on a swing and was missing her two front teeth.

  “Today is her birthday,” Peter said.

  Penny lowered her head and stared at her black combat boots. Her boss rarely mentioned his late daughter. In fact, Penny didn’t know much about her at all except for the fact she died many years ago from a horrible accident.

  “I’m very sorry, Peter,” Penny said.

  She walked over to her boss, around his desk, and put her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him, too. Penny could almost feel the despair radiating off Peter, the emptiness, the devastation. It doesn’t matter how much time passed after losing a loved one; the heartache would forever leave its furious claws in your heart.

  Peter patted Penny behind him, and his face softened. “You would have loved her. I bet you two would have been the best of friends.”

  “I’m sure we would have,” Penny said.

  Peter cleared his throat. Penny let go of her boss, ending their father-daughter embrace. “So, uh, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

  Penny retreated to the other side of Peter’s desk and sat down across from him. She, too, cleared her throat, now doubting this was the appropriate time to broach the subject.

  “I was hoping to talk more about my story. The one about Harper,” she said.

  Suddenly, Peter’s eyes darkened, and the anguish disappeared like a fire during a storm. “I thought I made myself clear about this, Penelope.” He used her full name, causing Penny to cringe.

  “I just thought we could discuss it a little more,” she said earnestly.

  “Well, you thought wrong.”

  A chill radiated throughout the room and Penny rubbed her forearms. “It’s a big story, Peter. People will want to know what’s going on with the search for her.”

  “Then they can ask the police!” His cheeks turned a shade of puce as his chest rose and fell wildly.

  Penny shook her head. Then she looked over at the photo of his daughter on his desk. At that moment, it suddenly clicked to her: Peter didn’t want to cover Harper’s disappearance because it pained him too much. She probably reminded him of the loss of his own daughter.

  Peter’s phone rang and each of them stared at the black cradle as the red light flickered on and off. “I need to take this,” Peter grumbled.

  “Sure. Yeah, of course.”

  Penny stood and felt Peter’s gaze piercing into her back as she left his office. The men in her life were driving her crazy. However, as she stepped out of Peter’s office and again looked out the window to Harper’s poster, she knew she couldn’t let this go. Even if it wouldn’t be published in the paper, even if she couldn’t slap her name on it, Penny knew she had to help solve this case. No matter what the cost.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tuesday, October 8, 2019

  Penny parked her car in the visitor lot of the Crimson Falls High School. A surge of nostalgia coursed through her veins as she recalled her own time enrolled at the school. The high school had been a bit lonely for her: she didn’t have many friends, nor did she try to make any, either. She served as the school newspaper’s editor and lead reporter, but the other staff on the student-run paper mostly stayed clear of her. Often sour, she left a bad taste in many mouths. Penny cared more about reporting the truth than who she needed to trample on to finish the piece.

  Many kids at school didn’t understand what Jayson saw in Penny when they first started dating. Penny, herself, didn’t understand at first, either. It didn’t take long for her to figure it out, though. She wasn’t like most girls pining after him. She wasn’t a cheerleader or a popular girl. Jayson didn’t want the stereotypical high school girl. He wanted something more.

  She smiled while she strode across the quiet parking lot and veered toward the main entrance of the school. Threatening clouds blanketed the sky. The nearly naked trees swayed in the chilly breeze.

  When Penny was a senior, she heard rumblings of a student teacher meeting some of the girls at The Crooked Crow and sneaking them in. A few even giggled and gossiped in the locker rooms before gym class about the teacher, Andrew, kissing them before the night ended. Adrenaline suffocated Penny, and she knew she had to get the full story.

  During one particular gym class, Penny pretended to need one of the larger mirrors in the ladies’ locker room to spruce up her makeup before class, even though she didn’t wear any. She plumped and played with her cheeks while she listened to the girls in the next row talk about Andrew and swap stories of their swapping spit with the student teacher, who although wasn’t too much older than them, still shouldn’t have been consorting with his pupils.

  The girls, still young and immature, didn’t even think to be jealous of each other, but instead, felt as though they’d been invited to a secret club. They didn’t mind sharing the teacher because an older man desired them. That was all that mattered.

  “He told me to meet him tonight at eight,” the one girl cooed while twirling her long honey-brown hair.

  “Oh, my God! Do you think you’ll go to second base this time?” another brainless cheerleader squawked.

  “We’ll see,” the first girl replied.

  Penny tried not to audibly gag, and instead, internalized the information and planned her stakeout for later that night.

  She borrowed her mom’s car and waited patiently while she watched every single person go in and out of the bar. Andrew, already balding, but with broad swimmer’s shoulders, strolled up just before eight. He glanced around and over his shoulder before pulling something small out of his pocket, spraying it into his mouth, and leaned against the side of the establishment. At eight, right on cue, Melissa from school showed up, wearing a skirt as short as can be. Not to mention her cotton-candy-pink lipstick bright and loud enough for someone in an airplane to see.

  Andrew pulled Melissa under his arm and kissed her forehead. This time, Penny didn’t need to silence herself and pretended to gag, hidden in the darkness of the night. With her disposable Kodak camera in hand, Penny walked into the bar. There wasn’t a bouncer, so she strode into the establishment with ease. Penny spotted the student-teacher couple and stalked toward them. They were huddled together at a corner table. Many patrons smoked their cigarettes, sipped their vodka sodas, and chugged Budweiser beers. She knew it was them, though. She could see Melissa’s lipstick through the haze.

  Without an introduction, Penny approached the table and snapped away madly at the scene before her. Before they even knew what was going on, Penny managed to get a few s
hots of them kissing. Andrew then looked up in horror.

  “Penelope? What are you doing here?”

  “Penny, you snitch!” Melissa cried.

  “Just covering my next big expose for the paper. Thanks, guys. Oh, and enjoy jail, Andy. Don’t drop the soap!”

  Andrew stood and pushed Melissa out of the booth. Penny sensed he would follow her, and she weaved in and out of the others at the bar and ran to her mother’s car. She saw Andrew standing dumbfounded in the street from her rearview mirror.

  After the story spread across the school, Andrew lost his student teaching gig and his chance to ever be a teacher in the state again. Penny earned herself even more of a bad rap because all of Andrew’s little club members blamed her, and rightfully so, for their boyfriend being blacklisted.

  But, despite her harsh reputation, she’d managed to wrangle Jayson, the school’s quarterback, all the same. Sometimes, the oddest couples made the most sense. Who would have thought, after meeting in high school, a decade or so later they’d be working at the Crimson Chronicle together? Definitely not Penny or anyone else in town. Jayson had acquired a full ride on a football scholarship to Notre Dame but tore his ACL during the high school championship game. It was a career-ending injury. The scholarship was revoked. Thus began his downward spiral from popular jock with the world at his fingertips to a married man, a low-paid reporter with an affair under his belt.

  “Penelope!” Mr. Harden squeaked and pulled her into his arms.

  “Principal Harden, it’s so great to see you,” Penny said with faux enthusiasm.

  Mr. Harden let go of his grasp on his former student, his toupee off center and many more wrinkles gracing his face.

  “So, I hear you’re the one who’s going to cover our talent show this year, huh?”

  “Jayson and I will be covering it together, actually.” Color rose to her cheeks. Penny couldn’t recall how many times Principal Harden had caught the pair behind the bleachers or in the janitor’s closet while at school. Even then, they’d had a propensity for sneaking around at inappropriate times.

  Mr. Harden nodded, his smile fading just a touch. “Splendid. Well, shall we get started?”

  She followed Mr. Harden into his office and remembered all too well making the same walk years ago after exposing Andrew and Melissa. Naturally, the principal had wanted to know everything she knew about the hush-hush goings-on in his school. He was grateful Penny gathered the information but didn’t miss his chance to scold her either about publicizing it so broadly for the whole school and town to know.

  Penny sat in the chair across from Mr. Harden’s, a brown leather chair much fancier than the one she remembered. She pulled out her phone and opened the recording app she used for her interviews.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Say, do you know anything more about that little girl gone missing? Harper is her name?”

  Penny paused the recording with a sigh. “I don’t know more than what you probably know. I’m sure you read my piece in this week’s edition of the paper?”

  Mr. Harden nodded and stroked his beard that was speckled with more white and gray than brown, as it had been many years ago. Picture frames with images of his family covered his desk, including his three daughters who had gone to school with Penny growing up. Educational awards and diplomas hung on his walls. Penny knew in his desk, he had a drawer full of confiscated items taken from kids. Back in her day, it was mostly harmless things like a whoopie cushion or even some small Swiss army knives. She could only imagine what the kids were smuggling in these days or how many cell phones vibrated in the depths of the cherry wood desk.

  “Such a tragedy,” Mr. Harden said. “Do you think she’s still alive?”

  Penny’s stomach dropped and turned wickedly. She assumed the answer but couldn’t bring herself to speak it out loud. The idea of the words probably not lingered on her lips but wouldn’t come. So, she shrugged instead.

  Most of the young girls who disappeared in Crimson Falls didn’t come back alive. Many weren’t even found. It was an underlying rule that if you went missing, you weren’t coming back.

  Mr. Harden’s eyes moistened. He rubbed at them with a swift flick of his wrist, trying to conceal his sudden emotions. Then, he clapped his hands and the cheerful smile from earlier returned.

  “Well, then, shall we begin?”

  The interview only lasted about fifteen to twenty minutes as Mr. Harden detailed the changes in this year’s show, which included a new award for group acts and a freshman-only category. Penny wrapped up her questions and thanked her former principal for his time.

  “Jayson should be stopping by sometime this week to interview a few more faculty members and some of the students participating this year.”

  “Very well,” Mr. Harden said. “It was great to see you, Penelope. Don’t be a stranger!”

  Penny forced a smile and waved as she hurriedly swooped across the parking lot to her car. Although, with every step of the way, another massive wave of sadness washed over her at the thought that Harper may never walk this parking lot because, most likely, she wouldn’t be alive for high school at all.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Wednesday, October 9, 2019

  Time. What was time and where did it go when you had no way to track it? Without a clock in range, did time disappear? If you couldn’t measure it, did it ebb and flow as it pleased?

  Harper, still chained in the stranger’s basement, lost all sense of where she was and how long she’d been there. It felt like months, years, maybe, since she’d last seen her parents or her friends. How long had she been a prisoner in this man’s torture chamber? Was she old enough to drive yet? Old enough to date? Had time begun to move backward? Was she a little babe again, unable to care for herself, in need of a parent’s touch?

  With cracked and chapped lips, Harper sat in silence. That was all there ever was now. Silence. With the rare exception of the strange man bringing her little to no food and calling her by another name.

  “Oh, Heather,” he’d whisper. “I’m so happy to have you back.”

  When he visited with a small glass of water and sometimes oatmeal or soup, which Harper spilled more than she ate, his voice turned soft and sweet.

  “I love you, Heather,” he’d whisper.

  It didn’t take long for Harper to wear out her vocal cords crying for help. It didn’t take long for her throat to dry up and her tear ducts to do the same. She couldn’t cry again if she wanted to. She had nothing left to give.

  Harper slouched, unfazed as footsteps pounded overhead against the floor. She couldn’t remember what the man looked like anymore, but she knew he wore heavy boots and the sound of his stomping around upstairs echoed within the chilled, stone basement below.

  The man disappeared for part of the day. However, she didn’t know which part it was. Did he leave for the night, or was he gone for the duration of the day? She couldn’t guess if her life depended on it.

  Without her sight, Harper’s other senses morphed into super-sensitive capabilities. While she couldn’t see, she could hear every single drop of water emitted from the sink only feet away. She could smell the metallic, bitter taste from the water, too. Urine permeated the air, but she grew accustomed to that in no time. She didn’t have a choice. Harper could taste the staleness in the air and could pinpoint almost all the ingredients in the few and far between meals the man brought her.

  To pass the time, Harper daydreamed about the possibility of her becoming a superhero with her new acute senses. She’d zip around the city blindfolded and rescue other kids in danger. She wouldn’t need her vision to help them because she’d sense the fear in the air, hear their calls for help, smell the metallic scent of blood, and taste the adrenaline in her body. No other little boy or girl would ever suffer at the hands of evil men. She’d save them. Every last one.

  The door creaked open, and a slim ray of buttery light squeezed through. Although, not enough to illuminate the b
asement, enough to glimpse her filthy hands folded in her lap. And only for a few moments.

  “I’m coming, Heather. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes. Thank you,” Harper replied monotonously.

  The man cleared his throat and Harper’s ears pricked as she heard him rifle through his trousers for a handkerchief. He spat inside of it and stuffed it back into his pocket. Harper cringed at the thought of that dirty material inside the man’s pocket. Her mother would never have allowed her to do the same.

  “Harper, you can’t carry around germs like that. You’ll get everyone and their mothers sick!” her mama would say.

  The man left the door open a crack every time he made his way down to visit Harper. He needed to be able to see where he was going, but he’d never turn on a light bulb. Only use the glow from the upstairs. Maybe he didn’t want Harper to see him? Although she already had the night he took her. Maybe, just maybe, though, he didn’t want to see her.

  Harper closed her eyes as the man’s footsteps shuffled closer and closer. Even though she could barely make him out, she didn’t want to try. She’d only just forgotten his face and didn’t want to be shocked into remembrance. Her nightmares were filled with enough monsters; she didn’t need another.

  With her eyes squeezed shut, she could still sense the man’s moist palm reaching for her forehead.

  “You’re feeling warm today, Heather,” he said with a gruff voice.

  “Mhmmm,” she said.

  She’d stopped correcting him when he called her Heather. It made no use. He kept calling her the name no matter what she said or did. The question buzzing in Harper’s mind, though, was who was Heather and where was she now?

  “You want some soup?” he asked eagerly.

  Harper nodded. “Yes, please.”

  Her mama taught her better than to forget her manners, no matter what the situation. Even in shackles, Harper always said please and thank you.